


Prom Queen

by lampsabout



Series: Statement Fics [1]
Category: 35mm: A Musical Exhibition - Oliver & Murphy, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Original Statement (The Magnus Archives), Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives), also i imagine jon recording this at the beginning of his head archivist tenure, and like hed be right so, based on the song "The Ballad of Sara Berry" from 35mm, gertrude is only offhandedly mentioned within the statement and Jon's post script, hed prolly go "oop thats a slaughter avatar in the making", if this was like. season 3 jon or honeymoon cabin jon, jon is reading the statement but i felt like i should tag him??? idk, so he doesnt know about entities or all that yet, specifically a statement for Sara Berry!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26624230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lampsabout/pseuds/lampsabout
Summary: Statement of Sara Berry, regarding the massacre of six girls at Georgetown High’s 2010 prom night.
Series: Statement Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189046
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	Prom Queen

**ARCHIVIST**

Statement of Sara Berry, regarding the massacre of six girls at Georgetown High’s 2010 prom night. Original statement recorded on April 27th, 2013. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, head archivist at the Magnus Institute, London.

**ARCHIVIST (Statement)**

Have you ever felt important? Have you ever felt powerful? Haven’t you ever wanted to be revered? Obviously, you think you’re important, having some lady come all the way out here to type up my “statement”.

Alright. I’ll be upfront. Yeah, I killed them. I did it, and I liked it. I bet you want me to tell you my tragic story, don’t you? My dark motivation behind my heinous actions or whatever the fuck? Fine.

Let’s get one thing straight: I was popular. I was hot, I was rich, I was head cheerleader, I had an awesome boyfriend. I was perfect. No one dared question my authority, not even  _ teachers.  _ Plus, I was a senior! Add all that up, and I’m a lock for Prom Queen, duh.

Then,  _ then,  _ the world decided to ruin my life. Julie goddamn Jenkins had to go and lose a leg. She got in a bad car accident or something, and she lost her left leg. Normally, not a problem. Say something on social media about supporting her journey or whatever, and I get my crown.

But  _ no.  _ NO! Of course, my stupid, stupid, stupid, student body decided that Julie would get to win. That she should get the crown over someone like me. Over someone who had worked for their perfect body, who worked for their boyfriend, for their cheerleader position. Who WORKED for their popularity. Someone who was perfect, but who worked for it. But no! No, some stupid, one-legged, piece of garbage gets the crown. Because of pity, or whatever.

I still remember when I told my dad. He was never big on expressing his emotions. He just sat there, in his massive rocking chair, not even facing me. Maybe that way I couldn’t tell what emotions his face was making. He just blew a puff of smoke off his cigar, and told me “Sara, dear. At the end of it all,  _ life  _ is a prom. Life is a competition. I expect that you will not disappoint your mother and I.”

So I decided that I wouldn’t go laying down. I would fight for that crown like I had fought for everything else. If I was going to get steamrolled by Julie Jenkin’s wheelchair, I would go out fighting.

I hosted bake sales. I handed out buttons. I put posters everywhere. Check Sara! Choose Sara! Vote for Sara Berry! Check Sara! Choose Sara! Vote for Sara Berry! Check Sara. Choose Sara. Vote for Sara Berry.

I pushed everything else away. Everyday, I was making more muffins, printing more buttons. I was doing everything I could to garner popularity. To take attention away from Julie’s  _ fucking leg  _ and back to me. I made more posters. I volunteered for everything, and made sure to publicize it. I did everything, everything I could. Nothing else mattered. I ignored friends, I ignored my boyfriend, anything that wouldn’t help me get wear that sash and hold that scepter, I didn’t care about it.

But still. STILL! Julie,  _ fucking Julie Jenkins  _ had that crown. She still had that lead. What the fuck was I supposed to do? So, I told my dad. I went to him, asking him what would happen if, theoretically, I  _ didn’t  _ win Prom Queen.

And he said, still not turning his chair, still smoking his cigar, still reading his newspaper:

“I think you’d be underreacting with the pace you’re going at now, Sara dear. If you want to live up to the family name, well, how can you expect to keep your inheritance if you’re just a princess at prom?”

I ran to my room and I cried into my pillow. I cried so hard and I didn’t care. I bit into it. I ripped it open. The prom was in days. I didn’t have  _ any time.  _ I couldn’t pull out a win. There was no chance.

The next day, I was mass unfollowed on all platforms. Some friends, I guess. I wasn’t talked to. I was ignored. Even by dad.

The day before prom, my boyfriend texted me, and he said we were breaking up! He was ditching the most popular girl in the world, the hottest, richest girl in school, for  _ JULIE FUCKING JENKINS! _

I threw my phone at the mirror. And I looked at myself in the cracked webbing of the glass. I saw a queen looking back at me. Her hair is done up in pearls, in a magnificent dress of the finest silk. I saw a queen who sat on her throne, and whose hand was kissed by every other citizen of her kingdom. She held roses, with the sash around her body, and the scepter in hand. She was smiling. “Down on your knees, before the queen!” The P.A said. “Down on your knees before the queen!”

I went to the school website. Who were the most popular girls in school? Who were the nominations for Prom Queen? Oh, that’s right. Sara Berry, Patricia Moore, Raqulle George, Anne Owens, Marianna Smith, Quiara White, Eunice Heron, and Julie Jenkins.

7 reasons. Those were 7 reasons that crown wasn’t in my hands tomorrow. That I wasn’t smiling and waving at the crowd. That I wasn’t the queen I saw in that mirror. They weren’t going to be un-nominated, so what else was I supposed to do?

So maybe I slipped some poison into the red solo cup Patricia so kindly labeled for me. She still drank it. She loved it so much that apparently, she couldn’t breath! People all thought she’d had too much punch, as we were all pretty sure that Shane Omen had spiked the whole batch. Oops!

Raquelle was looking to leave early, so I decided to walk her to her car. And, for the record, we  _ did  _ get to her car. Though, when she started to get in, she didn’t expect me to lift a rock over her head and break her skull in half. I put her body in the car though. Teenagers aren’t very good drivers, after all.

Anne had decided that she was going to spend prom in the gym supply closet, which really, it’s her fault for picking such a weird place to get drunk. Regardless, it’s so dark in there. I’m surprised people knew I did it when, really anyone could have grabbed that metal bat and beat her brains out!

Marianna was the fun one. She didn’t die from the first hit, annoyingly. She gave me the run around back towards the cafeteria of all places! Maybe she thought she’d be safe in the dark, empty room. Regardless, it wasn't hard to chase her down into the food preparation area. She burned herself on the stove, and all it took was a quick  _ snap  _ to kill her. Then, I grabbed one of the kitchen knives, and prepared a nice school lunch for next monday! Did you know that some people marinate their steak before eating it?

Quiara was an easy one. Swim team captain? Of course she’d run away from the pack like the ~troubled loner~ she was to go for a dip. Floating around the edge of the pool, back facing the door made it very easy for me to get my hands around her damn neck and hold her down. Watching the life leave her face as water filled her lungs was especially gratifying. Only one more!

Not many people were left at prom. Not because I had killed them all, but all the popular girls were...elsewhere, and it was getting late. So Eunice was on the football field. Where the crowning was. She wasn’t exactly in the crowd, just lingering around the edges. I took the time to retrieve my knife from the cafeteria and...call for Eunice from behind the bleachers. For all the charity work that girl did, she really couldn’t handle a knife. I strung her up along with the streamers around the crown.

And there it was. The crown. My crown. I didn’t care that my dress wasn’t white anymore. I didn’t care that my hair was messy, or that my make-up was running. I didn’t care anymore! I dropped my knife and I ran for that crown. I dived for it. I took it up in my hand, placed it upon my head, and I took that sash, I took that scepter, and I took those roses.

I looked out on the football field. Covered in Eunice’s blood. Devoid of people. I looked out there and I grinned. My kingdom. My subjects, applauding me. I was crying. Not because I felt sad. No, no I was finally where I was supposed to be. Where I was meant to be. I waved to my people, I knelt down for them to kiss my hand. Blood dripped from the roses under my arm. My dress was soaked. But I didn’t care! I was the queen. 

“Down on your knees!” A voice shouted. Clearly a bard singing my praises. “I SAID DOWN ON YOUR KNEES!” He came towards me, trumpet in hand. I took his hand, and I led him in a dance, he twirled me, and my head collided with cool metal. “You are under arrest.” The bard said. He locked my hands in silver bands, new jewelry for his queen. 

I’ve been here ever since. So yes. I killed them. I killed them, and I loved it. That’s about all there is to it. Julie Jenkins is the only person to visit me these days. That bitch seems scared of me. Good. She should be. If I had the chance, I’d break this glass and make her watch as I take off her other leg.

“God save the queen” She’d say. “God save the queen”. They all say.

**ARCHIVIST**

Statement ends.

Like most serial murder cases, the murder of Sara Berry’s classmates has been studied an obscene amount, so there isn’t much new information for us to dig up. All I can do is confirm that Sara Berry was a...troubled individual. The combination of her father’s demands and her own untreated mental issues seemed to have blended into a particularly nasty mess that resulted in...the above.

Honestly, I don’t even know what Gertrude was thinking, flying out to the U.S just to get a statement that seems to have no paranormal connection whatsoever. Just another one of the delusions of an archivist getting on in years, I suppose.


End file.
